


Growing to Love You

by LavenderPhantomCat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Healing, Multi, Past Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22341484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavenderPhantomCat/pseuds/LavenderPhantomCat
Summary: Harry Potter and his Auror partner, Ron Weasley are in charge of Theresa Bushwick's protection as an investigation on a murderer is underway. When Theresa gets hurt, the most skilled healer in St. Mungo's is called to be in charge of her care. This healer happens to be Draco Malfoy, but under a new surname.For Claudia! I hope you enjoy! <3
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Female OC, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 131
Collections: A Very Drarry Secret Santa 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [countingcr0ws](https://archiveofourown.org/users/countingcr0ws/gifts).



> Thank you to Lily for helping when I got stuck and encouraging me! I really appreciate it! <3 
> 
> (also if anyone has a better title idea plEase help lol)
> 
> Content Warning: There's some description of surgical procedure (I tried my best to keep it at a low level), and here's a hostage situation in chapter 4.

“Pardon me!” Said Draco, bolting down the hallways of St. Mungo’s, pale green robes snapping behind him. He burst through the double doors of the Emergency Department, his hands already spelled clean and ready to get to business.

“Dr. Black, we’ve got a geist victim. We received the message from the Aurors who are escorting the patient as we speak.” Said Cornwell, a Surgery assistant, a rank lower than Draco’s own; Surgical Healer.

“Do we know the condition?”

“No, sir.” She said.

“We’ve got arrival, geist victim, calling Healer Black and Assistant Cornwell” Announced the nurse at the entrance.

Draco and Cornwell rushed to the front, where two Aurors were holding up a woman in all black clutching her side. Looking at the Aurors, Draco realized that they were none other than Weasley and Potter.

“ _ Accio Gurney _ !” Casted Draco, easing the patient onto it. “My name is Healer Black, this is Assistant Cornwell, and we’ll be in charge of your care. Can you please tell me your full name?”

The patient gripped his wrist tightly, wincing. “Theresa Bushwick” Her voice was weak and hoarse sounding. “One of them got me. A big one.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bushwick.” He turned to Weasley and Potter. “Did you administer any spells to her?”

“Just one,” Said Potter. “To try and stop the bleeding. It didn’t work very well.”

Draco felt her grip lessening. When he glanced back down, here eyes were fluttering. The gurney was covered in blood. “Assistant Cornwell, I need you to get an Operating Room ready for us.”

Cornwell nodded and ran off to the OR desk. Her hand slipped from his wrist. Draco casted a monitoring spell, the sinking feeling in his gut proving correct: her vitals were slipping, and fast. “OR nine is open, Doctor!” Said Cornwell.

Draco raised the bars on the gurney. “Let’s go, Cornwell.” Cornwell took the other side of the gurney and they ran to the OR, leaving Potter and Weasley behind.

“She’s under the Ministry’s witness protection program,” said Ron, explaining to the nurse at the front desk they had to accompany Bushwick through the operation. Harry was standing behind Ron, trying not to think about the blood smeared across his Auror uniform. His mind settled on the healer that met them and took Brushwick away. It was Malfoy, but he was using a different name. Black. Narcissa Malfoy’s maiden name.

He hadn’t spoken or seen Malfoy in over a decade, ever since the trial. His father went to Azkaban for the rest of his life, his mother got house arrest. Malfoy got away with no charges, only probation for several years. It seemed like the snotty rich kid he’d known at Hogwarts had disappeared at the trial. Back then, it was solemn, hauntedness he’d seen from him on the stand. Now, Harry saw none of the Hogwarts snobbery, and none of the defeatedness, either. Good for him, thought Harry.

“You can’t go into the OR, but you can go to the observation room for OR 9. Once she’s out of the operation, you can be in the same room as her in the post-op wing.” Said the nurse.

“That’s good.” Said Ron.

“This way, then.” Said the nurse, getting up from her chair and gesturing for them to follow her.

This part of St. Mungo’s wasn’t at all the same as the recovery wings. There were no potted plants, only the severe cleanliness of the muggle hospitals he’d been in before. They walked down a brightly-lit hallway with healers in light green robes, assistants in light blue, and nurses in pastel yellow walking, talking and sometimes running.

The nurse opened a door with “observation room” displayed in silver letters beside two double doors crowned with a large nine. “You’ll be in here for several hours, depending on how severe the damage is. Dr. Black is a very thorough surgeon, so he does take longer, but his survival rate is among the best. I wouldn’t be too worried.” 

“Thank you.” Said Harry as he entered the observation room. Under bright lights was Bushwick’s abdomen, her chest and legs covered in surgical drapes.

Malfoy approached with the other doctor he’d been with, Cornwell, in what looked like the scrubs muggle surgeons wore. “Scalpel, please.” Said Malfoy, hand and long, thin fingers held out. Cornwell placed the instrument in his hand. “Thank you.”

Harry winced as the blade connected with Bushwick’s skin. His hands were still trembling from seeing her fall to the ground after the geist had attacked her. Well, when the wizard who had attempeted to murder her had hurt her. He’d summoned the geist, and ordered it to kill her. The wizard, a murderer who had been trying to pick off the Ministry’s curse breakers, for a reason the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had attempted time and time again to unearth, had already tried to murder two other curse breakers. The wizard had found her despite the efforts of the eyewitness protection protocol.

“Is that… is that really him?” Asked Ron. 

“Yeah.” Said Harry. Ron must have been thinking about Malfoy as a distraction, too.

“He seems so different. Nicer. Didn’t expect he’d go into healing. Well, I guess we expected him to do dark magic before.”

“Yeah.” 

Ron turned to Harry. “It’s not your fault, you know.”

Harry sighed. “I know. I just  _ feel  _ like it is.”

“How were we supposed to know that he knew where the safe house was? There’s like dozen people, tops, who do. We did all we could.”

Harry nodded. He tried not to look at the surgery occurring below to much, the sight of all the blood making his heart pang. A flash of blue caught his eye though, so he looked down. Malfoy had casted a spell, a little trail of blue that descended into Theresa’s abdomen. Harry guessed it was to look for bleeds.

Malfoy was handed different tools to shift organs about for a better look, searching for, Harry guessed, the blue indicator of a bleed. Cornwell replaced emptied bags of blood for transfusion, and observed some glowing orbs (more monitor spells? Harry didn’t know for sure) as Malfoy worked. 

Harry heard Malfoy spotting small bleeds and mending them through the magical sound system, a knot tightening in his stomach. There was more than one. He could feel his hope slipping even though he remembered what the nurse said about Malfoy being “thorough.” He hoped that was enough.

Harry wondered how Malfoy could keep so calm and collected doing things like this. Surely surgery was stressful. He marveled at how during the entire time he’d been at St. Mungo’s he hadn’t seen Malfoy break a sweat once.

Just as Harry thought this to himself, Malfoy went perfectly still. The air went thick and heavy. Something was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco had found countless small bleeds, but not the main one. Theresa Bushwick was still bleeding out of somewhere. There was still blood staining his gloves. He had been looking through the abdomen when he saw it: a small black flame slowly oozing thick smoke. His hands clenched around his tools, the words he was going to say dying on his lips.

He swallowed thickly. “Assistant Cornwell, please engage lockdown procedure 23.” 

Cornwell’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir.” She ran in long strides, and casted a step-softening spell, trying to minimize her contact with the ground. She cast a small spell on a silver panel by the door, all the entrances to the OR then being covered by walls of metal, sealing them in. 

Inside of Theresa Bushwick was a piece of the geist. And now, they were all locked in with it.

“Assistant Cornwell, what do we do when we find a geist implantation?” Asked Draco, trying to keep calm. 

“We, uhm. Uh. We try not to disturb it. No loud sounds. No shifting where it rests. That sort of thing. I, uhm, I don’t--” She bit her lip, clenching and unclenching her hands.

“A good start, Assistant Cornwell.” Said Draco, trying to be as soothing as possible. He didn’t show it, but internally, he was almost as scared as she was. “Breathe. You are a very capable medical professional. No one is going to get hurt.”

Cornwell nodded. “Okay. Okay.” She took a deep breath in, holding it, before letting out a shaky --but strong-- exhale. 

“In the best case scenario, we clip the implantation, deposit it in a secure canister. Worst case scenario, it evolves into a geist, and we fight it.”

“Do you think we’re in the best or worst case scenario?” Asked Cornwell.

“No way of knowing for sure, but I think we should hope for the best. Let our knowledge of spells be a fallback plan.”  
Cornwell nodded. “I’ll fetch the canister.”

The metal container was open and ready to be filled with the geist implantation. Draco took a deep breath. He was Draco Lucius Black. He was a renowned surgeon. He’d handled much worse than this. He picked up the clips on the tray beside him. His wand was put in its place.

He clenched his hand around the tool to make his hand shake less as he lowered the clip into Theresa’s abdomen. He took deep breaths to keep calm, and kept his mind focused on the scene before him.

Oh so delicately, he positioned the clip beside the implantation. With only meticulous motions, he got closer and closer to the plume of black, knowing sometimes a delicate swish of air could disturb it enough to spawn a geist. Cornwell picked up the canister beside him with the lid in her other hand, ready to close it up.

Carefully, he clipped the connection between the plume and Theresa’s body --a sinuous purple structure-- and began lifting it out. He stopped breathing. Time slowed to a painful pace. Gently, he put his clip into the canister…

Then he dropped them.

Cornwell screwed on the lid of the canister in what Draco genuinely believed was record speed. Draco rushed to enchant it shut --a precaution-- his shoulders finally easing when he saw the comforting glow of a successful containment spell.

He exhaled in relief, his knees feeling weak. “Fantastic work, Assistant Cornwell. Fantastic work.” 

“The same to you, Healer Black.” A smile, the kind born after surviving a brush of danger, spread on her face.

“You should be proud of yourself. When I was an Assistant? Who knows what I would have done. Probably cry.” Said Draco with a grin.

The next day, after a six-hour operation, Theresa Bushwick woke up. Harry and Ron were at her bedside when her eyelids began to struggle open.

“Hello there,” She said tiredly. 

“Hello, Ms. Bushwick.” Said Harry, helping her sit up. Ron went to get a member of the staff.

“Say I don’t have my priorities straight, but I would love a sandwich.” She said, sighing.

“Good news, Ms. Bushwick, we’ll have solid food ready for you soon.” Said Assistant Cornwell, entering the room.

“Thank Merlin!” Said Theresa. 

“Healer Black will be here in a moment to discuss your care plan, estimated recovery, and your surgery.”

Theresa’s brow furrowed. “Surgery?”

Cornwell flushed. “Oh, I thought Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley told you. We had to operate on you to stop your bleeding.”

Theresa nodded in understanding. “T’was a nasty one, so I’m not too surprised.”

Malfoy walked into the room, taking the clipboard Cornwell handed him. “Sorry I’m late, I got pulled aside in the halls by another Healer.”

Theresa narrowed her eyes at Malfoy. “You seem familiar. Do I know you?”  
Malfoy stopped tapping his quill on the clipboard. “I was in the ED when you came in, and talked to you while you were lucid.”

“Ah.” Said Bushwick, nodding. “So. Surgery?”

He nodded. “Magic is often too general to fix specific injuries, like sources of internal bleeding. We often have to take an approach involving magical and non-magical surgical procedures. Assistant Cornwell and I went into your abdomen to find the bleeds.”

“We found something.” Said Cornwell. “A geist implantation” Seeing Bushwick’s expression she hurriedly said, “We removed it successfully, with no complications.”

Theresa exhaled in relief. “Good.”  
“After, we fixed the remaining tears, and we were able to sew you back up.” Said Cornwell.

“You make it sound so easy,” Said Theresa. “You two saw it didn’t you?” She said, facing them.

“Erm, yeah.” Said Potter. “I wouldn’t say it’s my cup of tea, seeing people get cut and sewn up.”

“Oh, were you two in the observation room? I suppose the mirror setting was on.” Said Cornwell.

“There’s a mirror function?” Asked Weasley.

Cornwell nodded. “To keep distractions obsolete. We’ve had observers try to wave at surgeons operating on brains.” 

“Sorry to interrupt your discovery of mirrors, Weasley, but I’d like to know how long I’ll be here.” Said Theresa.

“We’ll be keeping you on bedrest for a couple more days before we magically seal the incision, then you’ll be discharged. Keep in mind, this doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want, you need to abstain from heavy lifting and strenuous activity for at least a week. Though, I’m sure it won’t be a problem, since it will give you the opportunity to boss those two around.” Said Draco.

Theresa laughed. “This fellow knows me so well already! Doc, I think we might manage becoming friends.”  
“I look forward to it, Ms. Bushwick.” Said Malfoy, who took a quick glance at the clock on the wall. “I do wish I could mock those two with you, Ms. Bushwick, but I’m scheduled to visit another patient in a couple minutes, so I must be off.” 

He was halfway out the doorway, looking at the clipboard before he stopped in his tracks. He turned around, facing Potter and Weasley. “Auror Potter, Auror Weasley, I forgot to mention something. After the operation, I was talking with Assistant Cornwell, and she and I agreed that many of the tears we encountered showed evidence of cellular regeneration.”

Potter’s and Weasley’s blank stares prompted Draco to ellaborate. “Some were healed or nearly healed; something that could have only happened with magical intervention. That means the spell you casted stopped a lot of the bleeding. Considering all the injuries, I think it wouldn’t be wrong to assume that spell saved Ms. Bushwick’s life. Good work.”

Assistant Cornwell checked the monitoring spells that had been cast on Theresa while asking her about pains and discomforts.

“Assistant Cornwell, is it?” Asked Bushwick. Cornwell nodded. “Well, and stop me if this is out of line, but was Dr. Black originally Dr. Malfoy?”

Cornwell looked up from the glowing spell she’d been checking. “Oh. Well, officially, a Dr. Malfoy doesn’t exist. He changed his last name before he became a healer. He doesn’t mention it, he says it’s only an added complication.”

“I understand.” Said Theresa. She paused a minute. “He must be a good surgeon to have gone through my surgery with no complications.”

“He’s one of the best, Ms. Bushwick.” Said Cornwell before leaving the room.

Harry had to admit, Black’s (this would take some getting used to after years of spitting out “Malfoy” with a school-yard brand of venom, thought Harry) new haircut didn’t make him look half-bad. He had ditched the combed-back look and went with a short-on-the-sides, longer at the top kind of cut. Maybe this had always been there, but he also had very elegant fingers, and a spattering of moles that Harry hadn’t noticed before. Harry didn’t want to admit it, but Black was… handsome? Harry flushed at the thought.

Ron and Harry spent their time reading newspapers, books, arguing over quidditch scores; anything to keep busy. Every so often, Black would come into the room to make adjustments to potion dosages after checking her vitals. He kept up small talk topics, cracked jokes, and was… kind? Harry was blown away that Mal-- no,  _ Black _ was good-natured and not a total prick anymore.

Ron had gone to check with the DMLE for any developments they needed to be aware of, and came back with an envelope in his hand. “They want Malfoy--”

“Black” Corrected Harry.

“Well, before I was interrupted, I was going to say that they want him to come in for a formal statement.” Ron tossed the envelope to Harry, who caught it and put it on the small table with an edition of The Prophet and a couple quidditch magazines on it.

The rest of the day continued as Ron and Harry tried to occupy themselves. Every now and again, Harry’s mind would drift to random observations about Black. Observations, Harry felt the need to clarify after he’d think of one. Like how his jawline was sharp and how he would tap his quill against the metal bit of his clipboard. 

Once six o’clock rolled around, two other Aurors took their place for the night and evening shift. Ron and Harry tried to follow the signs in the hallways to make their way out of St. Mungos. Despite the extensive signage, they still ended up lost.

“Blimey, you’d think they’d make the hallways. Y’know… not endlessly winding” Said Ron, trying to decode where they were on a hospital map. 

The magical intercom kept sounding off names to come to the ED, among them was Black’s name. Mere seconds later, Harry heard a loud “Excuse me!” As a healer dashed past, green robes snapping. From the shock of white hair, Harry guessed it was Black. “I guess the ED is that way, then” Said Harry. Ron and Harry managed to get out of St. Mungos, and met up with Hermione for dinner and drinks as the sky started to go golden, showing the nearness of sunset.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco had just finished an operation, and after he stripped his hands of the gloves and his operation robes, he accompanied Assistant Cornwell on her rounds. He discussed recovery, operations, discharges with Cornwell with multiple patients they’d operated on before reaching Ms. Bushwick’s room. Inside was Potter and Weasley as they had been yesterday, this time discussing some kind of score in quidditch.

“Hello, Ms. Bushwick.” Said Draco, flipping through her patient documents on the clipboard he picked up from the slot by the door. “How are you doing today?”  
“Good. Excited to get out of here.” She said.

“Well, Assistant Cornwell will examine your incision, and then, if all is well, I should be able to magically seal your incision and you’ll be out of here by tomorrow.”

“Dandy.” Said Bushwick as Cornwell looked at the stitches. 

“Healer Black, I think that we’re ready. The spells show her tissues are naturally reconnecting, and I don’t see any infection.” Said Cornwell, looking up.

Draco took a look, nodding. “I concur. Good work, Cornwell. How about you begin and stop after the Rijuvinanis potion application.”

As Cornwell worked the complicated weaving of spells, Draco looked on intently, examining every wand movement and pronunciation. He heard a knock at the door frame, so he turned. It was a wizard in nurse’s robes. Draco assumed he had some information for him. The nurse entered the room, and closed the door behind him. Draco walked over to him, and in a low voice he asked, “is there anything you need?”

Draco felt something roll through the room. Magic. Something felt… wrong. The nurse unclenched his fist. “I need  _ her _ .” Draco followed his gaze to Bushwick and Cornwell’s fingers weaving the complicated spell.

His hand reached for his wand, but found nothing. The nurse turned to him, and upon noticing Draco’s wandlessness, smiled sickly. “I’m going to ask you to come back another time.” Said Draco firmly. He did not at all like this one bit. Potter turned his attention to them, his hand instinctively going to find his wand. His fingers froze when he found nothing. 

“I don’t know what you are doing here, but you have to leave. Do I need to call security?” Said Draco, venom in his voice, trying to keep his annoyance contained so Cornwell could focus.

“Not necessary, Malfoy.” Said the nurse. Before Draco could react, an arm was around his neck, and he was being restrained. The entire room snapped to attention, silence and fear coating the air like a thick layer of tar. Draco heard a blade being unsheathed, and felt the cool of metal being pressed up against his neck. “Any of you move, he gets sliced.”

“Do you really think, as a surgeon, I’m afraid of a knife?” Said Draco, his voice low but still confident. He was buying himself some time, even if it was dangerous to egg someone on like that. His thoughts were going a mile a minute, piecing together the sickening puzzle in his head. This fake nurse was the murderer. Or an accomplice. Either way, they wanted to harm patients, and there was an unfriendly blade mere feet away from a patient with her abdomen half-healed.

The knife was pressed closer to his skin. “One more wisecrack like that, and this room is going red.” Hissed the attacker.

Draco would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. He was mildly terrified, trying not to wince every time the fake nurse’s hand pressed the knife closer to his skin. He could see the wheels turning in Potter’s head, probably coming to the conclusion that almost every possible outcome would end in someone getting stabbed. The knife. The way it was positioned, would miss some major arteries, Draco reasoned. With that personal assurance, his plan was solidified.

Quickly, before his assailant could react, he gripped the arm holding the knife, and yanked with all his might. The attacker was flung over Draco’s shoulder and hit the ground with a loud thud, his knife clattering to the ground.

Potter and Weasley leapt forward and restrained the wizard, and Cornwell rushed forward, a cotton swab in her hand. “Dr. Black, you got nicked.” Draco took it and pressed it to the small cut, thankful it was just a shallow scratch.


	4. Chapter 4

The post-op wing was filled with Aurors and magical specialists figuring out the spell the perpetrator had used to snatch their wands. Harry was instructed to stay at Theresa’s side with Ron as the chaos was slowly calmed. 

Soon, their wands were returned to them and Black was finishing up healing Theresa. He looked, remarkably, only mildly shaken. Hermione had said that he’d worked on high-profile cases before, so maybe he was trained to deal with those kinds of situations? Or was he just really good at covering up how he really felt?  
Once the spells were done, Cornwell gave Theresa more guidelines on how to care for her newly-sealed up incision, and Balck stepped away, and rubbed his eyes, as if he were tired.

An Auror came into the room, a piece of parchment in hand. “Aurors Weasley and Potter, they need you at the Ministry to give your own statements and oversee questioning. And Healer Black, the Ministry wants your statement, both on what happened today and when Curse Breaker Bushwick was hospitalized.” The Auror folded up the parchment and put it in her pocket. “We’ve got two other Aurors in charge of witness protection while your gone.”

“The nearest Floo would be down stairs,” Said Black. “If you would like me to show you.”

“That would be good, thanks.” Said Ron. 

The Ministry’s main entrance was bustling with witches and wizards going to-and-fro, with owls bringing in mail, envelopes whizzing high overhead at the same level as the chandeliers. It looked kind of like a train station, with all the floos lining the marble walls. Harry and Ron lead Black into the DMLE, and from there he was taken to a room to have his statement taken. Harry and Ron went into the hall dedicated to interrogations, and stood behind a magical partition, a charm that acted like a window but looked like a part of the wall from the interrogation room.

The perpetrator was sitting in the dim interrogation room, while an Auror asked him questions from a sheet of parchment that was so long it had to be folded in many places to keep it from spilling off the table. An Auror brought in a large bowl of glowing yellow liquid, and set it on the table.

“This is a tool we use to detect if you’re lying or not.” Said the Auror in charge of interrogation. Harry pinned her down as Auror Heron. 

“If it glows red, we know you’ve lied.” Said the other Auror, Auror Fallow.

The interrogation continued on as Auror Heron read from her long list of questions. She had made quite a lot of progress before a Cadet opened the door, and placed a note on the table for Auror Heron. She opened it, nodded, and placed it next to her lengthy scroll of questions.

“Mr. Gardiner,” Said Heron, using the name they’d discovered in previous questions, “do you or any of your associates have any intention of harming the loved ones of the healers and assistants who treated Ms. Bushwick?”

“No.” Said Gardiner. The potion remained the glittering yellow fluid it had been when Fallow had brought it in. The Cadet wrote something in their notebook and left the interrogation room, closing the door with a soft click behind them. 

The questioning persisted for several more hours. Harry was able to punch out, and by the time he was leaving the DMLE the hallways of the Ministry were glowing with evening light. When Harry rounded the corner, he saw Black. He was looking out the big windows out on the inner courtyard of the Ministry, the sleeves of his healer robes pushed up and a brow furrowed in either thought or concern.

“Hey, M-- Black.” Said Harry once he got closer.

Black’s blond head snapped up. “Hello, Potter.”

“Did they keep you very long?” Asked Harry, leaning against the wall between two of the gigantic windows.

“Unfortunately. Lots of paperwork. ‘What organ with s-in-parethesis was harmed if any? List all, not just those of importance.’” Said Black in an impersonation of the Minister. “I would hazard if any of them are harmed it’s a tad important.”

Harry chuckled. When did he get so witty? “The interrogation of the perpetrator was very long. They asked him if he was in the hospital today. It’s protocol or whatever to establish whatever and so forth, but I would be lying if I didn’t snort. Or laugh.”

“‘Whatever and so forth?’ you must be a really great witness on the stand.”

Harry waved his hand as if he was dismissing the thought. “I’m plenty sharp on the stand. It’s just what, six? It’s been a busy day. I’m tired.” He punctuated his statement with a perfectly-timed yawn (it was a real yawn though, Harry  _ was  _ tired). “Anyway, you all right?” He asked earnestly. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he added quickly, biting his lip.

Draco wanted to pinch himself. Harry James Potter was asking him if he was all right (a little voice in his head made a quick interjection of Potter biting his lip while doing it, which Draco tried not to blush after thinking). “I think so,” he said truthfully. “I was a little shaken up there for a second there, though. Maybe not a second. Perhaps an hour.”

Potter looked at him understandingly. “Does it happen often? I mean, not necessarily what happened but things like it.”

Draco looked out the window. “I mean, how do you define often? This would be the fifth time. It happens when you’ve got higher profile things like someone in witness protection.”

“Five times?” Said Potter. “That’s got to be scary.”  
Draco looked out the window at the fire-painted clouds. “It is. In the moment, it’s kind of like there’s a part of me that goes on autopilot and the other part of me feels like it’s trying to do a 5000 piece jigsaw puzzle in thirty seconds. I feel like, though, once it’s all over is when it’s the worst.”

“Because you overthink it?” Asked Potter.

Draco nodded. “Yeah. I think, well, if they went through all the planning to get us all here, to lock me out of a patient’s room, to know where I’d be to either strike when I’m not there or have a plan to handle me… I guess it gets me thinking that they must have put effort into uncovering other aspects of my life. It hasn’t happened yet, thank Merlin, but I still worry about it.”

“Are you worried still?” Asked Potter.

“No. I think I’m going to be okay. I mean, I’m always worried, just a little sprinkled through my day, but that’s kind of my job. I think nineteen-year-old me would be shaking in his boots, but I think I’m a little secure now. Not as scared for myself.”

“But for other people?”

“Yeah.” Said Draco, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. “There’s a couple of people in my life that if something happened to them I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I care for them so much, which sounds weird coming from me, from where we left off after the war, but I swear I’m capable of caring for loved ones.” Said Draco, ending with a good-natured smile spreading across his face.

Potter laughed a little. “Nah. I was preoccupied with so many different things.”

There was a beat of silence before Draco spoke. “I don’t know if I ever did thank you. For testifying for me and my mother.”

Potter looked up from the floor. “Oh. Don’t mention it. It was the right thing to do.” He said a hint bashfully.

“And I’m not mad about you testifying against my father. He deserved it.”

“Oh. I was worried for a while about that.” 

“I think it’s probably for the best. I mean, did he end up trying to control people’s lives inside Azkaban? A little. But I think he deserved it. And at least hindered how much real influence he had on our family.” He paused for a moment. “Well, you look tired, so I wont keep you from home. Good bye, Potter.”

“Good bye, Black. Have a good evening.”

“You too,” Said Draco, watching Potter leave a second before going down a different hallway, to the fire call department.

The small room in the fire call department the attendee had given him was sparsely decorated minus a fireplace with business cards on the mantle and a small table with parchment and quills for writing notes. Beside the fireplace was a machine that could only be described as a clockwork abomination, thought Draco. He approached it, turning the little knobs and dials, flicking switches, all according to the information card the attendee had given him. When he had finished the complicated sequence that supposedly was the address of the Hogwart’s fireplace, Draco pulled the large level on the side of the gleaming gold box (if you could call it a box, on account of all the protruding instruments Draco didn’t know the use for). The fireplace, which had been crackling lightly grew in brightness and strength, turning the white-hot color that fire calls made when the person you were trying to call hadn’t picked up yet.

The white-hot quality of the flame subsided to a deep orange, and Headmistress McGonagall was looking at him, her profile formed from the flames. “Hello, Headmistress McGonagall.” Greeted Draco.

“Hello, Mr. Black. I assume you would like to speak with your son?”

“If it’s not much trouble. There was an incident at work today…”

“I understand. I’ll have an aide of mine fetch him. I believe they’ve finished supper by now.”

Draco could hear a scribbling sound and the woosh of a peice of parchment being sent through the air via spell. “How is Astoria?” Asked McGonagall.

“Well, I think. She’s in Paris, actually with her new girlfriend.” Explained Draco. He’d called previously, and had since caught up with her, revealing details about Astoria and his family every so often.

“That’s lovely. And you?”

“Oh, all right. Nothing much is happening in my life, minus all the hospital things.”

McGonagall nodded. Her voice and tone didn’t explicitly show affection, but in the years he’d known her, he knew her asking about his life was her way of showing she cared.

“How’s your mother?” 

“Oh, you know, same old same old. I think the house keeps her down nowadays. I think she wants to move away from it all. But she’s only got until April until she can stop living there.”

“Well, at least there’s some end to all that business.”

There was the sound of a knock at the door. McGonagall turned away and out of the view of the firecall. Draco heard her say, “it’s your father, dear.” and a “is anything wrong?” “No dear, he just wants to say hello.”

The door closed, Draco guessed McGonagall had left the room. Only a few seconds passed before Scorpius was waving through the fire call. “Hi dad.”

“Hey Scorp. Nice to see you.” Said Draco, smiling.

“Did something happen at work, dad?” Ask Scorpius inquisitively.

“Yeah.” Said Draco, blinking away the threat of tears. Seeing Scorp right there reminded him of the bad that could have happened if he’d gotten hurt. Or worse.

“What happened?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, Scorp. I just wanted to make sure--” He paused for a moment. “I just always want to make sure you know I’m okay if you see it in the paper later.”

“Oh, was it one of those cases with very important people in it?”

“Yeah, there were a lot of important people in that room. Don’t worry about it though. Nobody got hurt. I don’t want you worrying about my stupid work things. If you are, that’s fair, but I promise that nothing bad happened in the end”

“I’ll try not to.”

“So, tell me how your day has been. What have you been up to since you last wrote?”

“Oh! I got top marks on my herbology exam yesterday! Professor sprout says I can start helping around the greenhouse if I want to!”

Scorpius continued telling Draco about all the things that had been happening at school, with friends, the new set of wizard chess in the Hufflepuff common room. After some time, he exhaled. “That’s it, really.”

“I’m glad you’ve been doing so well. I’m proud of you, Scorp.”

“Thanks dad,” Said Scorpius, beaming. “I think I have to go soon.”

“Oh, don’t let me keep you. Bye, Scorpius.”

“Bye dad!”  
“I love you, Scorp. Have a good week.”

“I love you too, dad. See you soon!” Said Scorpius before leaving the room.

The call ended, the flames returning to normal, licking at an ever-replaced supply of wood. For the first time that day, Draco let his face fall into his hands, let tears flow. He was so relieved that everything was okay. Everything was okay. 


	5. Chapter 5

Grimmauld Place was so peaceful compared to the bustle of the ministry and the hospital. Harry hung his coat on a hook, and trudged up the creaky stairs. Upstairs he clumsily showered and flung himself into bed in some freshly-washed pajamas. He rubbed his eyes, trying to will himself to get his wand and summon some food from downstairs. 

It had been a crazy day. His mind drifted to the image of Black, with lack of a better word, absolutely  _ decking _ the assailant. The cool calm, the effortless strength, it seemed.And the conversation he’d had with him in the hall. He wasn’t half the arsehole he used to be, it seemed. Harry blushed slightly when he thought it, but Black was… admirable.

Harry summoned a sandwhich and munched on it as he flipped through the paper, looking at the scoreboard for the Holyhead Harpies. Outside the window dusk was tinting the sky a deep blue. He brushed his teeth and turned off the lamp beside his bed, letting his head rest on a pillow and sleep overtake him.

There was a hand in his, grently gripping his fingers. A pair of lips whispering something in his ear. He can only hear his name whispered by the familiar voice. When they step away, he realizes it’s him. It’s Draco. He’s smiling. There’s snowflakes falling around them and he can feel the chill of snow grazing his cheeks. There’s an ache in his face, and he realizes he’s smiling.

Harry’s alarm was frantically ringing, and he forced his eyelids open to see his room bathed in a grey, cool light. Looking outside, he can see frost is covering the ground-cover plants below. As he adjusted to the light, he remembered his dream. Why was he dreaming about Black, of all people? He’d heard the more you think about something the more likely it would be in your dreams; did he  _ really _ spend that much time thinking about him? 

As Harry got ready, that’s all he thought about. That weird, weird dream. When he punched into work, when he flooed to the hospital, when he climbed the stair up to the post operation wing, when he greeted Theresa.

He’d been given a packet of paperwork to fill out, some of it needing Black’s signature. He flipped through the papers until he found them, setting them aside. As he scribbled information and checked boxes on the parchment, his mind would wander to that dream, to the point he almost wrote what he was thinking in a blank for “arrest method.”

When Black came into the room with Cornwell to discuss dischargement, his heart jumped into his mouth, as if Black could tell what he was thinking about. He hoped the flush in his neck wasn’t visible, and that the collar of his auror robes covered most of it.

After Cornwell checked for any tears in the spell, she said, “I think she’s ready for discharge, sir.”

Black took a peek, then nodded. “You are healing very well. I’ll sign the discharge papers and you’ll be on your way.” He said, scribbling what Harry guess was his signature on a sheet of parchment fastened to a clipboard. He turned to Harry and Ron, eyes glancing at the papers in Harry’s hands. “I assume I have to sign more of the Ministry’s dread paperwork?”

“Erm, yeah.” Said Harry. He felt so bashful. What was going on with him? He stood up (terrified he was going to trip) and handed over the papers.

“When do you need these back? Today’s going to be a busy day, with everyone slipping on ice.”

“It’s not really urgent. If you don’t finish them today, you’ll have to drop them off at the DMLE, and tell the secretary it’s for me.”

He nodded, skimming over some of the questions. “Right then. I’ll have these done for you as soon as possible.”

As if on cue, the magical intercom called a list of healers to the emergency department, his name among them, and he was out the door with some hurried directions to Cornwell.

When Draco scrubbed out of the 7-hour long surgery he had just completed, he really just wanted to go to sleep. He summoned the paperwork he’d spelled into his mailbox and walked over to the overnight rooms, where healers on long shifts could take naps until they were needed.

He turned on one of the small lamps in the small room and sat on one of the two cots in the room, picking up a discarded medical journal from the table holding the lamp, and started scribbling away at the parchment. In the places where Potter’s thick, block writing was printed, he could see the occasional scribbling out of a word. Some of the words were completely unrelated to the actual subject, but he just shrugged it off.

He spelled the papers away, planning on taking them to the DMLE when he punched out. Until then, he would take a nap light nap to prepare himself for whatever would come through the ED doors next.

It was dark outside the hospital windows when Draco’s shift ended. He stepped into one of the many hospital’s floos and was transported to the Ministry’s lobby. Most of the departments would be closed, but some, like the DMLE were 24-hour-affairs. Draco walked down the hall crowned with a large gleaming sign with “DMLE” in golden letters, the marble awash in the warm light from the many lamps on the walls, offset with the deep dark exposed by the large windows common in the Ministry’s hallways.

When he reached the main lobby he could hear loud laughs after what sounded like banter towards the back of the room, where he guessed was a break room. The lobby was lit only by the many lamps on the desks and in the corners of the room. It seemed that even Aurors needed a break from blaring light at the end of the day.

The secretary looked up from their log book with a welcoming smile (how they could muster that at nine in the evening was beyond Draco’s comprehension, but he applauded them for it). “How can I help you?”

“I have some paperwork for Auror Potter from St. Mungo’s. He told me to drop it off here.” Said Draco, handing the parchment to the secretary.

“Oh, he’s actually in right now.” The secretary said before swiveling in their seat and yelling, “Potter! You’ve got some mail!”

Someone said “just a second,” from the back of the room before Potter emerged from a well-lit doorway and walked over to the desk. His hair was as ruffled as he’d last seen it, a smile lingering on his lips from whatever he’d been joking about with the other Aurors. Perhaps this was a crazy thought, but Draco almost wanted to say that Potter looked handsome. A part of him said “like always” which made the back of his neck feel hot.

“Thank you, Black.” He said looking though the paperwork. His eyes widened when he was halfway the first page. “You put notes for your responses. And notes on those notes.” He said incredulously, looking up. “I heard you were thorough. I guess everyone was right.” 

Draco couldn’t help but feel flushed. “Oh. Thank you?”

“Do you want some coffee or something?” Asked Potter.

As if the idea of having coffee with a bunch of Aurors wasn’t mortifying, Draco said, “Potter, you can’t barter medical care with coffee. I’m so tired of seeing injuries today that if I see so much as a papercut I  _ will _ incapacitate whoever it belongs to,” with a straight face.

Potter laughed. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Smart man.” Said Draco as he left the DMLE, a wave over his head signalling his departure.

The break room was a tiny kitchen where coffee was constantly brewing and there was some kind of banana bread on the counter. After Harry filed the paperwork in the gigantic wall of filing cabinets that Harry liked to call “the vault” he walked back into the break room, picking up his still-steaming mug of coffee.

The conversation between the Aurors on shift -- Ron, Seamus and an Auror named Samwell -- had shifted to romance. Ron was talking about how his relationship with Hermione was going well when they turned to him.

“What about you, Harry? Got your eye on anyone?”

Harry immediately felt a blush spread across his face. “Oh no. No one.” 

“Ah well, mate, I recommend shooting your shot if you do find someone.” Said Seamus. “I mean, I was about scared shitless when I did it.” He shook his head, as if remembering. “But it worked with Dean, didn’t it?”

“Still can’t believe he hasn’t divorced me yet, after that one time I got drunk to hell and back and broke one of our windows thinkin’ it was a door.” Added Seamus, laughing to himself.

“That’s the power of love,” Said Ron.

The conversation stayed with Harry for the next couple of days. On the third day, he woke up, the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He had a hankering for Black. A crush, his friends would have called it back in Hogwarts. And he had it bad.

The dreams he’d been having of kissing, dancing with and otherwise involving Black (and not hating them, either); the way he blushed when he thought about him… it really should have been more obvious. He got out of bed, rubbing his eyes.

As he got ready for his day, he knew he had two options. One, try to ignore that he totally thought Draco Black was fit; or, two, try to ask him out. Harry decided that he wanted to think about it later, hoping to push away the decision. Every choice had it’s complications and uncertainties. Plus, he figured, it was too early to ponder the results of life-changing decisions like that. Problem with Harry was that it was officially always too early to deal with it, so he found himself, days later, having pushed away the thoughts away entirely. That is, until he was on lunch break.

Rosewood park was one of several parks nestled in Wizarding London. It had a pond where ducks and geese quacked and squaked, trees that flowered in spring, and expansive lawns. Because of the increasing chill, fewer and fewer people had been out and about in the park. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy for Harry to see Black reading a newspaper on a bench, a piece of bread left out for some birds to pick at.

Harry, trying to channel his inner suave, walked over. “Hiya, Black.”

Black looked up from his paper, and if Harry wasn’t mistaken, with a faint smile. “Hellow, Potter.”

“Lunch break?”

“Yes, for once. Usually, I never have the time to have an actual break.” He folded the paper in his lap. “Would you like a seat?”

“Oh, I’m okay. Plus, I wouldn’t want to take the place of your friend,” said Harry, nodding to the pigeon pecking at the bread.

“She can move,” he said. Then, leaning down closer to the bird, “can’t you?”

Harry shook his head, a chuckle rising in his throat. “You’re bonkers, Black.”

Black looked up, and Harry could swear he could see a blush there. “And what am I supposed to do? Shoo it away?”

“I never said it was a  _ bad _ bonkers.” Said Harry. “I think maybe the world would be a better place if everyone talked so kindly to birds.”

“Birds deserve it. Do you have any?” Asked Draco, eyes shifting from the colorful plumes at the pigeon’s neck to Harry again.

“Hedwig, my owl.” Said Harry. “You?”

“I had peacocks, a canary named Beatrice a long time ago. But now a days, it’s just Harriet the owl.”

  
In this conversation about birds, Harry realized he had really never _known_ Draco, Black or Malfoy. Who knew he had a love of birds? Maybe it was his feelings speaking, but it made him seem all that much handsome.

He felt this so strongly, that when Black was getting ready to leave, Harry decided it was as good a time as ever to shoot his shot. “Black.”

Black turned around.

“I wanted to ask…” Harry tried to keep his fingers from fiddling. 

“Yes?”  
“Would you like to go out for dinner?” Harry bit his lip, trying not to wince as silence dragged.

“Did you… Harry James Potter, ask me, Draco Lucius Black, out on a date?”

“Yes.” He said, hoping that Black’s incredulity was one motivated by hope for it being true.

“Well, in that case; Of course.”


	6. Chapter 6

Draco would be the first to admit it; Harry Potter was ruggedly handsome, with his deep tan skin, mop of curly hair, defined jaw line. But he also knew Potter was more than just the Chosen One and a piece of eye candy. The way he talked to others, the way he acted kindly as if it were no burden all showed how he was also a good person.

Draco would never had said yes to Potter’s date proposal if he didn’t know this. He wanted to date someone who would be kind to Scorpius and understanding of his family. As Draco messed with his hair in the mirror, he thought Potter had potential to be that someone. The clock read 5:54, so Draco made some finishing adjustments to his outfit before apparating to the location Potter had quickly scribbled on a piece of parchment for Draco.

He found himself in an obscured nook by an Italian restaurant, with green awnings and lamps softly illuminating the inside. From down the calm side walk, bundled in a long red scarf, was none other than Potter. “Fancy seeing you here,” Said Draco, a smile spreading across his face.

Potter’s eyes dragged up and down Draco, eyes wide. “Do I have something on my face? Or my entire person?”

“No, No…” Said Potter. “You just are really handsome. Do people tell you that often? Because they should.”

Draco could feel the blush encroaching and he’d been talking to Potter for only a minute. “What a charmer. I could say so about you… would it be off for me to call you ruggedly attractive?” He meant it. The curly hair, dazzling green eyes, even the glasses, made him handsome. The ruggedness was there, and when he wore his Auror uniform, Draco recalled thinking that often.

Potter led them into the restaurant. He had reserved a table towards the back, secluded and quiet. “Okay, I’m going to be the first to admit, I don’t go to these kinds of restaurants often, so you’re going to have to recommend what would be good.” Said Potter.

“On a scale of one to ten, how good do you think shellfish are?”  
Potter wrinkled his nose. “A two if they were covered in gold leaf.”

Draco smiled and looked at the menu. “I have to say I agree.”  
Draco found that Harry Potter was a good conversationalist, and a witty one at that. He found himself laughing more than he had in a while, and a smile spreading across his face. He was glad Potter stayed true to the Gryffindor values still, because they’d taken him on a date with Potter. That in itself was a marvel, something he never could have seen coming. Potter, liking men? He hadn’t considered it before. He was glad he was shown wrong.

Half-way through their dinner, Draco knew he had to tell Potter about his son and ex-wife, Astoria. Draco couldn’t go on dates with people who weren’t okay with that part of his life. He knew that Potter would probably not care, but Draco knew if he didn’t say anything now, it would become increasingly awkward to mention it later on. Soon, his opportunity presented itself.

“So, what have you been up to, besides being an Auror?” Asked Draco, bringing his glass of water to his lips and peering over it.

“Oh, not much. As you can guess, Ginny and I didn’t end up staying together after the war. I had a couple of people who I was dating, but it just didn’t work out well. I have godchildren, Rose and Hugo. Cute as buttons. You?”

“They sound adorable.” Said Draco. He took an imperceptibly small inhale. Here goes nothing, he thought. “My life after the war got a little crazy, in retrospect. My father was in Azkaban, but they still let him send letters and messages to whomever. One of those people was Astoria Greengrass’s father.” He saw Harry’s eyes dawn in realization. “The pureblood families thought the only remedy for what had just happened was continuing on their bloodlines. Don’t be fooled, most of those families hold the same values they did during the war. Only a couple of people have changed. So Astoria and I got married. My mother sent some pictures to my father in Azkaban. We look unhappy in all of them. Even on my good side.” Harry chuckled. “Well, as you may have gathered, we didn’t stay married. But that took a couple of years to get to. This next part is the only reason I bring this up at all. We had a son. Scorpius Greengrass. He has her name because I wouldn’t wish my old one on anyone anymore.”

“How old is he?” Asked Harry.

“He’s thirteen, so he’s a second year at Hogwarts right now.”

“Oh wow, what house?”  
“He’s a hufflepuff. If, when if you play your cards right, you’ll see why.”

“He sounds like a good kid.” Said Harry sincerely. Draco was glad that he’d told Potter, since it seemed he was taking it well. Harry spoke again. “Thank you for telling me. I don’t mind at all.”

“Thank you.” Said Draco, relieved. “It… it means a lot for you to say that.” He tried not to fumble with anything, but felt his fingers desperatley wanting to fiddle with the cuff of his shirt sleeve.

“This is probably an intrusive question, and I’m sorry if it is, but are you and Astoria on good terms?” Asked Harry.

Draco smiled. “We’re best friends. Our decision to divorce was more than either one of us hating each other. I’m not attracted to women, but she’s only attracted to women. We felt controlled by our families and we didn’t care if they wanted to disown us because of it. In fact, I recall that we actually wanted to be disowned. We didn’t want to raise Scorpius in all that mess. Anyway, this isn’t just about me.”

“Just so you know, I  _ will _ constantly be interested, so literally do not hold back.” Said Harry, using his fork to gesture as he spoke. “However, I know that you’re too stubborn and have those pesky things called manners.”

“I do confess, Mr. Potter, I am afflicted with the pox of politeness.”

The night continued with banter and shared smiles, and Draco had to admit, he was having fun. Harry Potter was more than just a (very) pretty face in an Auror uniform. He was thoughtful, funny, kind. And maybe, just maybe, Draco was falling for him.

The dates that came after the first became more closely spaced, some intimate some as simple as talking with each other as they walked through a park. The most memorable for the both of them was at Grimmuald Place and Harry made dinner. Draco remembered laughing when Harry opened the door spotted with tomato sauce and Harry grinning back. Harry remembered fondly the way that they talked in the candle light, the soft laughs and the way that answering personal questions didn’t make them feel ashamed. But they both cherished the most when they were sitting by Harry’s fireplace, Draco’s head on his shoulder as they talked.

It happened slowly, beginning with Harry facing Draco, hands moving down from his shoulders to his hands. They inched closer to each other, until their faces were mere centimeters apart. When they closed the gap, warmth spread in both of their chests. There was never a kiss so gentle and tender in wizarding history, in Malfoy history, in Potter history. It was perfect in every way.

When they broke away, Draco said breathlessly, “Harry.”  
Harry grinned. “Going by first names now?”

“Oh shut up and kiss me again.” 

Harry laughed and bent down again. It was a perfect evening. After that date, they shared even more kisses with each other. Sometimes on the cheek as Harry left their lunch date, sometimes on the mouth, sometimes on the knuckles (the first time it happened, Harry winked afterwards before having to leave for his Auror shift and Draco felt like he would combust). 

One early December evening at Draco’s apartment, Draco asked, “would you like to come over for the holidays?” They had been dating for a couple of months now, and he wanted Scorpius to meet Harry. 

Harry turned to, smiling from ear to ear. “I’d love to. Merlin, I’d love to.” 

“If you have other plans, I understand.”

“No problem at all. I’ll be there whenever.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile. “You’re too sweet. There aren’t going to be many people, just Scorp, me, you, Astoria, and her girlfriend Marie.” 

“Sounds perfect.” Said Harry, placing a light kiss between Draco’s eyebrows.

Harry knew herbology was Scorpius’ favorite subject, specifically magical flowers. He learned Astoria loved travel and books about other places, and that Marie liked architecture. That left Draco. The past several days, Harry had been taking special care to read the titles on Draco’s shelves when he wasn’t looking and trying to see if Draco was dropping any hints. He had seen a promising route, though. Draco had a lot of poetry books, and Harry had passed by a poetry book shop on a walk through a part of Muggle London. He didn’t know exactly who Draco would like, so he bought a collection. Inside were vibrant illustrations and delicate calligraphy. He knew the pictures didn’t move, but he thought Draco would appreciate it nonetheless.


	7. Chapter 7

It was Christmas Eve, and it was snowing. A truly magical scene of whirling snow flakes outside of Draco’s apartment windows. The fireplace was alight and exuding warmth, the tree was sparkling and decorated, and already there were wrapped gifts under it. Marie and Astoria had come via protkey from Paris, and were staying in the apartment’s guest room. Draco had taken Scorp with him to pick up Astoria and Marie, and was reminded as to why he loved the holidays so much. Everyone, his close family was all in one place.

“So, I heard we’re going to have another guest with us tonight.” Said Astoria, eyes sparkling as she drank from a cup of eggnog.

“Yes, yes.” Said Draco. “I did meet someone, and he is coming tonight. Please be nice to him.”

“And I know who he is!” Said Scorpius proudly. 

“You should tell me when your dad isn’t looking.”

“Oi! This is only fair after you insisted on keeping us all on our toes for Easter.” Said Draco.

Astoria waved her hand. “Fine, only fair. However, I should get prodding rights.”

“You will _not_ have prodding rights!” Said Draco with indignation. “Only light prodding rights.”  
“A victory nonetheless!” Said Astoria, high-fiving with Marie.

“ _ Light  _ prodding rights. That means a minimum of one question a minute.” Said Draco.

The doorbell rang and Draco got up to open the door. “Remember,  _ light _ .” Said Draco before leaving for the door.

Draco opened it, revealing a slightly disheveled Harry Potter with melting snowflakes in his hair and presents in his arms. “Aw, you shouldn’t have.” He said, helping take some out of Harry’s arms.

Harry planted a kiss on his cheek. “Nonsense.”  
Draco closed the door before whispering, “sorry in advance, I did try and calm them down but they’re very excited to meet you.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’ve had my fair share of rapid-fire questions.” Said Harry.

“Alright, but if you need an escape just glance very worriedly at me.” Said Draco, leading them into the living room.

“Alright everyone, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. My boyfriend, Harry.” Said Draco. Harry emerged from the hallway, only to be immediately met with hugs and hand shakes and “nice to meet you”s. 

“Wow Draco, what a catch! He is as handsome as you said he was!” Said Astoria.

Draco blushed furiously. And Harry gave him a look that said “oh?” with a grin. 

The evening went perfectly. Harry was getting along with everyone, joking with Astoria, talking about their jobs and what working for the UK versus the French ministry was like with Marie, and talking with Scorpius about Hogwarts, sharing stories. It reinforced Draco’s belief that Harry was a good fit for him and his family.

As the evening wound down, Scorpius went to bed and Marie and Astoria started getting ready to go themselves. That left Harry and Draco alone in the living room, sitting on the sofa and looking into the crackling fire.

“So… you think I’m handsome?” Asked Harry teasingly.

“Of course I do. Ruggedly so, I think I said on our first date.”

“You actually said attractive. I remember.” Said Harry.

“Oh you know what I meant. I’ve said it, and I’ll keep saying it. You are impossibly handsome.” Said Draco with a hint of lovingness in his joking tone.

“Well, you’re so good-looking that I don’t think I can describe it.” 

“Merlin, you are such a flirt!” Said Draco, laughing. “I love it.”

“Speaking of… I love how much you care. You care about your patients, your family, your friends. Like how you’ve been working over time so you can be off for all of Scorpius’ break. Except you’re like that all the time.”

Draco hugged him tightly. “You’re going to get me all emotional, Harry.” He said, laughing. “I love how you’re so understanding.”

“I admire so much about you, and I think I’m going to grow to love you.”

“Me too.” Said Draco, looking at Harry, so glad he went on that first date with Harry. As the snow fell outside they talked in hushed voices until late into the night.

Christmas morning was bright and cozy, filled with thank yous and bright smiles. Scorpius was given an atlas of a magical forest by Draco, a new broom from Astoria, a glass case with preserved magical flowers inside from Marie. Harry hoped that Scorpius liked the gift he got him as Scorpius tore through the wrapping paper.

Wide eyes met his followed by a giddy smile. “How did you know?!” He took out the large book from the rest of the wrapping, an encyclopedia of magical flowers. He flipped the pages, tracing the illustrations with his pointer finger. “Thank you so much, Harry!”

Harry smiled. “You’re welcome. I heard you’re going to shape up to be an herbologist.”

Scorpius nodded as he skimmed through the book before looking up and thanking him again.

When Draco opened his gift he turned to Harry. “You rascal, this is perfect.” Before hugging him tightly. The cover of the poetry collection showed the brightly-plumed drawing of a bird, it’s feather’s wrapping around the title: “A Collection of Beautiful Bird Poetry.”

Marie was in awe when she opened her present to find a small model of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris inside of a small case, with tiny model people spelled to walk up and down the model streets, and thanked him sincerely, admiration for the piece still caught in her voice. Astoria thanked Harry earnestly for the incredibly detailed maps of the different continents. Since it was done by a wizard cartographer, the waves of the oceans and seas moved in accordance with the currents, and landmarks in every country with waving flags could be seen.

When Harry was given his gifts, he was surprised to see that he’d gotten a gift from everybody. Marie had given him a long scarf of cozy French wool she’d hand-crochet, Astoria gave him a snow globe with his favorite quidditch team playing inside in tiny model form, Scorpius gifted him some chocolate frogs. Draco’s was last, a small box in green and gold wrapping. Opening it, Harry saw a small metal stag, with small birds on it’s antlers. Draco cast a spell on it, and the stag came to life, hopping into Harry’s palm. “Salazaar, this is amazing.” 

Draco smiled. “I remembered how you told me your patronus was a stag and thought you might like it.”

“Like it? I love it. It’s amazing.” Harry said, peering at the small details. It had truly been a magical holiday, even if you didn’t include the gifts. As the snow fell outside in large, puffy flakes, Harry was happy right where he was, hand intertwined with Draco’s, in a cozy living room filled with laughter and smiles.   



End file.
